How To Tell If Somone Is Staring.

How To Tell If Someone Is Staring At You: And What To Do If You Stare.

First we must not overlook the obvious. If you whirl about real fast, and some asshole is staring at you, then it is reasonable to assume that they are staring at you.

Sometimes however, it is not so obvious, then you must look for the subtle signs.

1: You get the sensation of beady little eyes boring into the back of your head like a red hot poker.
Before you assume that you are being stared at thou, make sure that it’s not someone actually stabbing you in the head with a poker.

2: You turn around quickly, and the volume of the conversation at the table behind you raises twenty octaves. ( SOOO MARY, ERRR, SO THEN WHAT HAPPENED AFTER YOU DROPPED THE CAN OF TUNA ON YOUR FOOT!!)

3: You look up from your book to see that the guy across from you has suddenly become transfixed with the logo on his Starbucks cup.

4: You snap out of a deep daydream and realize that you have been simultaneously drooling, and singing the theme song from the Smurfs cartoon, but no one else in the crowded bank line looks the least bit interested in you. WRONG!! When you do something absentmindedly embarrassing and NOBODY appears to have noticed, it’s a good bet that until a second ago, everyone was staring like hell.

No one likes to be caught staring, but every one does it, and it’s a good bet that you will to. So what do you do if you get caught??
My usual approach when caught staring, is to make a lunge for the nearest object, and bash myself in the face with it, thus rendering myself unconscious, and avoiding an explanation. But there are also other ways of handling it. Such as, screaming at the person: I WASN’T FUCKING STARING OK!! GOD! WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM!! Or you can pretend to be retarded, this works great!! The person you were starring at usually gives you a nice big smile and goes back to what they were doing. I use this approach when ever I feel the uncontainable urge to stare at a strange woman’s breasts. But pick the option that seems right for you and you’ll make out all right…………..good luck!!!

Just one of many reasons why swiming in Bear Creek is a horrible idea.

The Male Dating Ritual.

Once again I find myself down town hanging out at Starbucks, trying with out success to look in a direction that would not be met with the sight of two unbelievably happy people trying like hell to suck each others lips off their faces. Why was it that I found myself alone night after night? It wasn’t in the looks department I was sure of that, for I saw all sorts of beautiful women hanging off the arms of assorted cretins with out so much as a single glance at their lameass sideburns and the vacant nothing upstairs expressions plastered on their faces. So if not looks or intelligence, then what?? What was it that made these assholes so attractive to the opposite sex?
Then it hit me like a Revelation from God!! It had to hinge on the initial contact!! The Mating Ritual. So I set out to try and observe this ritual. I strolled down to the local Bar, The Fire House, along the way making numerous detours to avoid happy couples on the side walk running through the various Bases, oblivious to the world around them. I found myself a dark hiding spot to the left of the front door, behind a potted fern, and set about observing the complicated often confusing ritual performed by the male Homosapian on a quest for a mate. After a short wait a small male wandered up and took a position on the sidewalk out front. He was dressed in pants that were obviously twenty sizes to big, his baseball cap, also ten sizes to big was slewed at an angle that seemed to defy gravity. His shirt if such it could be called hung to his knees, and bore the garish logo of the newest winning sports team. I took all this in, my pen scratching away furiously on my note pad. The young male paced back an forth in front of the bar, obviously searching for a mate. Soon a car drove slowly past containing an assortment of beautiful girls, most likely looking for mates themselves. At the sight of them, the young male exploded into action!! He danced a furious sort of jig, arms flapping wildly. His hands fairly flew between grabbing his crotch, and spinning his oversized hat around on his head. “Haaaaaeeeey Bizisnitches” he yelled!! “Howz a bout you n meez gitin it onnn like dee dogs! Yeah dats right youz supa fine me bitch!! Yah I’d sooo hit dat shiiiit!!”
The young females obviously impressed with his mating antics came to a stop, and began a complicated ritual of their own, involving adjusting their shirts so as to allow a look down the front, and fooling with their hair in a teasing sort of way. After completing this odd sort of dance, the young male was allowed into the car, and off it went into the night.
And that was it!! I quickly stowed my notes, and set off to the clothing store, intent on duplicating this ritual, in the hopes of warding off another lonely night spent watching others make out, then drinking my self into a coma.

This post has run long, so I will conclude the results another night.